Always The Woman
by Bebbe5
Summary: Between SH1 and AGOS. The thoughts of Holmes about Irene on the words of 'Always a woman' by Billy Joel.


N/A: Hi everyone. I just saw the movie AGOS and I was quite disappointed by the fact of Irene's death. So I decided to translate this song-fiction I wrote and published on when the first movie came out.

I hope you like it

Always **The** Woman

I close the door behind me and let a sigh out: case closed. Honestly, I expected a little bit more of astuteness from that criminal: leaving traces of Sussex's dirt on the parquet in the loft, what a foolish move! I wonder what Watson would have thought about this case, how he would have romanticized it in his stories, making it unbelievable for that mass of ignorant which constitutes the population of London.

Although it hurts to admit it, the house is empty without him.

I head upstairs and enter in the living room. In the fireplace, the flames are brightly dancing, their crackling is accompanied by the perpetual dripping of that alkaline solution I am analyzing with my instruments. I throw the jacket on the coat hook, managing in my intent of actually hanging it on that, and I put on my dressing gown, before taking a seat on my favourite sofa, near the fire and the window. A hand reaches out to grab the briar pipe and some tobacco from the slipper hanging on the fireplace.

Puffs of smoke start coming out from my mouth and, in a few moments, the room disappears and, with it, the city in front of my eyes.

Silence.

The flat is full of it now. There's just the ticking of a clock, no more the hasty talking of some hypochondriac patient, no more the voice of my Boswell who tries to reassure him.

I turn to my right and see Gladstone who's observing me, his head slightly tilted.

I sneer.

"You know how much will I do to you from now on?" I murmur.

Incredibly, it seems that he understood, because he faintly whines before hiding under a sofa. It doesn't matter, as soon as I'll put something in his bowl he'll change his mind. I raise my gaze and my eyes places themselves on _Her_picture. Damn, I forgot to lower it once again.

_She can kill with a smile  
>She can wound with her eyes<em>

I observe it carefully, lingering over the hair, over that smile which has brought many men to madness, over those eyes which had wounded many hearts.

Not mine, not me. I'm superior in such things, my mind considers them futile, inconceivable. And yet, why do I keep complying with Her?

Why do I keep hoping that She commits some absurd and Machiavellian crime, so that I would be able to meet Her even if hurriedly?

Maybe Watson is right, maybe as well as a cocaine addict, I'm becoming masochist too.

I hate to admit it, but I like Her company, She always keeps my mind engaged, even if confused sometimes.

_She can ruin your faith with her casual lies  
>And she only reveals what she wants you to see<br>She hides like a child,  
>But she's always <strong>The<strong> Woman to me_

The thing that makes me smile the most is the fact that I keep on trusting Her, hoping that She could remain by my side. And everytime, punctually, She betrays me, lying and revealing me only what She wants me to know, with the purpose of achieving Her goals. Everytime then She runs away, She hides in what seems like a childish game.

Unfortunately, though, in spite of the fact that reason keeps reminding me my stupidity, She's always The Woman to me.

_She can lead you to love  
>She can take you or leave you<br>_

She brought many men to love Her, choosing in the span of a day whether to keep or to leave them. Some died, some simply went on.

Just like me.

I think I'm the one who's been tricked more times in Her circle and I wonder how many times this will happen again.

_She can ask for the truth  
>But she'll never believe you<br>_

The best part is that, with Her, I can't even lie like I should. I try, but all the words that come out of my mouth when I find Her in front of me are always the pure truth.

But She keeps on not believing me.

I laugh.

Watson keeps believing me, even if I often lie when I'm with him.

Ir.. hem The Woman never trusts me completely, in spite of my utter sincerity towards Her.

What a funny world!

_And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free  
>Yeah, she steals like a thief<br>But she's always **the** Woman to me  
><em>

And yet She shouldn't have any qualm. Everytime She's sought for my help, I've always given it to Her without asking anything back.

And actually everytime I've found myself alone, with Her victorious laughter in my ears.

Because She knows as well that my door will always be open for Her, She knows as well that, in spite of the bunch of criminal actions She may commit, in spite of the jewels She will steal, She will always remain The Woman for me.

_Oh, __she __takes __care __of __herself  
>She <em>_can __wait __if __she __wants  
>She's <em>_ahead __of __her __time  
>Oh, <em>_and __she __never __gives __out  
>And <em>_she __never __gives __in  
>She <em>_just __changes __her __mind_

Maybe that's why I fear for Her everyday, for what could happen given the life She lives. And it doesn't matter how much I know She can perfectly take care of herself, She's cautious and every plan She makes is perfectly devised, always with three moves ahead of everyone who tries to put sticks between Her wheels.

And when She changes Her mind, it's not because She's given up or has abandoned the plan. She's still a representative of the fair sex and, as such, She too can change Her mind in any moment.

The episode on the top of the building site should have showed me more than clearly.

_And she'll promise you more  
>Than the Garden of Eden<br>Then she'll carelessly cut you  
>And laugh while you're bleedin'<em>

She had decided not to run away anymore, She had decided to tell me everything. For a moment, and I'm not ashamed to admit it, I had hoped that finally a part of that happiness that mankind had discovered in the Garden of Eden would have been mine.

Maybe I would have been willing to sacrifice my mind, my job if it had been like that It's a pity, though, that the following moment, we both understood that that situation would have never become real.

Even at the Grand I had thought that my life would have reached a turning point but, immediately after drinking the drugged wine, a new wound has opened on my skin and She was laughing just at seeing it.

_But __she'll __bring __out __the __best  
>And <em>_the __worst __you __can __be  
>Blame <em>_it __all __on __yourself  
>Cause <em>_she's __always _**_the _**_Woman __to __me  
><em>  
>I must admit, though, that, until now, she had been able to utterly bring out the best and the worse part of me. I've done foolish things in order to help Her, I've shown gallantry in such a fashion that, if it had been for an utter stranger, I would've felt nauseated by my own self.<p>

Watson may keep on doing sharp remarks and remembering me my naivety, but She will always remain The Woman to me.

_She is frequently kind  
>And she's suddenly cruel<br>She can do as she pleases  
>She's nobody's fool<br>_

And it doesn't matter how changeable She may be, how many lies She will tell. This is what has attracted my attention, Her complete and total freedom, so similar to my own. We can be kind, but dreadfully cool and calculator. We do as we please, almost utterly ignoring the society and those whom it comprehend. We try as much as we can to avoid to get bound with someone, both for not suffering and for not causing pain to those who are so unlucky to cross our path.

_And she can't be convicted  
>She's earned her degree<br>And the most she will do  
>Is throw shadows at you<br>But she's always **the** Woman to me  
><em>

Both of us can hardly be deceived and both of us had deserved our fame (or our reputation, it's a matter of point of views). The only difference is that I'm too much of a gentleman (or too much of a stupid, as my rationality keeps on screaming) for giving Her what She would deserve everytime She does something to me.

Suddenly, I notice that the tobacco is over and that I have been pulling in vain for a while.

I place the pipe down.

I deeply inhale and exhale with extreme calmness.

The door of the room opens and I hear a clattering of porcelain on a tray.

Ah, the good nanny. It's weird that she's not muttering about the conditions of the room. Maybe she misses the doctor.

I let a smile peeping out on my lips the moment before a bowl full of olives from the Cyclades appears in front of my eyes.

I turn my head and find myself looking into two crystal irises I've come to know very well in all their shades by now.

I raise and observe Her, trying in vain to deduce something about Her intentions. The olives alone are already suspicious.

In the end, though, I don't care, because She's back once again, once again She's here, the one who will always be The Woman to me.

THE END

Link to the video which inspired me:

/watch?v=4sCtw1NqmP0

So, what do you think about it?

Let me know

Bebbe5


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